


One More Step

by NorthStar



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Tags Are Hard, War!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 22:39:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7549990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthStar/pseuds/NorthStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One more step, just one more step.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One More Step

**Author's Note:**

> what are tags and descriptions
> 
> also this is probably the most cliched thing i've ever written please excuse

One more step. One more step. One more step.

 

It’s all about that next step.

 

“Kihyunnie…”

 

No, be quiet. Don’t disturb. Rest.

 

_I’m sorry._

“Kihyunnie…”

 

Just one more step. And then another. And another. The distance is so long, and he is so tired, but he can always do one more step. One more step isn’t so hard. His boots are heavy and soaked, his back covered in sweat and his gear wears him down, but they are all minor inconveniences compared to the precious weight draped across his shoulders.

 

“Kihyunnie!”

 

Please, Hoseok, be quiet.

 

_I’m doing this for you, just hold still…_

His neck bows forward, and he squints through sweat-soaked bangs and dust and grime, but all he sees is the muddy grass and the occasional tree root beneath his feet. Every step is a struggle because he sinks, ever so slowly, and the soil makes an odd little sound when he moves forward, but it’s manageable, he’ll make it.

 

The corner of his eyes blacken and blur before shifting into focus again, and he tries to blink the fogginess away. It almost works, and almost is all he can hope for, so he trudges on. His arms are wet now, from sweat or rain or blood or anything else, he doesn’t even know, but it’s unfortunate, because they keep slipping and he must readjust his grip every so often. He is not a strong man, but he holds on with sheer willpower now, because if he doesn’t –

 

“Kihyun, please, stop!”

 

“Can’t,” Kihyun mumbles through a wheeze, and it’s a miracle that Hoseok can hear him over the _bangs_ and _booms_ in the distance, but he must, because he starts squirming, and Kihyun has to stop to maintain his balance. Now that he is not moving, his equilibrium feels off, and his legs are shaking, burning, aching all the way from his toes and up into his spine. He feels every cut, blow, cracked ribs and who knows what else, and it scares him a little bit, because no, he can’t - he c _an’t._

He has to keep moving.

 

But his mind is moving as slowly as his body, and Hoseok is talking to him, through a haze, nearly muted and blending into the ringing in his ears, and Kihyun figures he should listen to him. Hoseok might need help, what if his wounds are getting worse, maybe he’s seen something, maybe –

 

Kihyun doesn’t know what else, but he is too tired to think.

 

“ – isn’t doing any of us any good, please, sit down, have a break,” Hoseok is saying next to his ear and Kihyun processes it slowly. He licks his lips as he thinks.

 

“Do you need a break?” He asks at last, voice raspy and small. He doesn’t ask, are you in pain, because the answer is _yes._ Of course he is. There had been too much blood, and Hoseok had screamed so loudly that Kihyun could feel the pain physically stabbing at his chest even though he wasn’t the one who just got shot through the stomach. He had tried his best to clean and bind the wound, but he had limited resources, and they were under assault. Hoseok had gritted his teeth together and waved him off, told him he’d be fine, keep them away, and Kihyun had trusted him.

 

There is no way Hoseok isn’t in a tremendous amount of agony. But he was always the strong one, he won’t say anything.

 

It doesn’t matter. Kihyun knows. And this time, he has to be strong for Hoseok.

 

He tries to give Hoseok’s arm a small squeeze, the one he is clutching tightly in front of his chest, but there is no more power in his grip, and Hoseok only scoffs at him.

 

“I don’t – “ Hoseok starts, but cuts himself off with a sharp intake of breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I need a break. So do you.”

 

“No,” Kihyun tries to shake his head, but he only bumps into Hoseok’s thigh. He feels the warmth radiate from beneath the rough material, and though it’s not exactly freezing out here, it’s too much. “I don’t – we need to keep going.” Because if Hoseok says he needs a break just because he thinks Kihyun is too tired – that’s not good enough. Then they have to keep going.

 

“Kihyunnie, you’re gonna walk yourself to death,” Hoseok says, gently, as if Kihyun is a child that needs to be coddled. He isn’t. He is a soldier, just like Hoseok, and in this situation, he is the only one capable of getting them out.

 

He believes he is capable of getting them out.

 

“If I don’t, you die,” Kihyun replies, and he tries to sound firm, but he can’t waste any energy on distinct tones. He needs to keep walking. That’s where his attention must be focused. On walking.

 

He starts up again, slowly, forcing his mind to think only about that next step again. One foot in front of the other. Shifting his weight. Stabilize. Repeat with other foot. Breathe.

 

He thought moving would help him regain his balance, allow him to ignore his pains and get into a rhythm again. But it doesn’t – now he feels the spasms in his back, the pressure on his ribs and the dizziness exacerbating his headache, and every step shoots a new wave of agony through his knee. He didn’t know he hurt his knee.

 

There is also a dryness in the back of his throat that he didn’t notice before, and he tries to gather some spit to swallow down, but there is nothing, and his momentary distraction makes him cough at the tickle in his mouth, and he stumbles, jostling Hoseok in the process.

 

Hoseok, who is shot and bleeding, and shouting in his ears.

 

Kihyun doesn’t listen.

 

He manages to stay upright, but only barely, and he takes another moment to stabilize his stance. He shifts his grip on Hoseok slightly, because he is slipping again, and Kihyun can’t afford to drop him.

 

_I’m sorry, Hoseok._

 

Fortunately, Hoseok stays still despite his verbal protests, and Kihyun is grateful that he doesn’t have to look at Hoseok’s face. What is he thinking right now? Is he angry, hurt, worried, sad, defeated? Kihyun isn’t sure what he’d find if he looked, but he knows it’s not pleasant.

 

He manages to take one more step and forces himself to take a deep breath. It is harder than he thought, and he only realizes now that he has been breathing shallowly for – how long? Since they started walking? How long ago was that?

 

It burns his ribs and Hoseok’s weight on his shoulders restricts the expansion of his chest painfully, but he must keep going.

 

One more step.

 

One more step.

 

Kihyun doesn’t realize there is an incline and they are going uphill until the muscle cramps shift to a very specific part at the back of his legs. He registers it dully, that his steps are getting shorter because they meet the ground earlier than they used to, that gravity pulls Hoseok backward, that the tree trunks become more slanted as they proceed. He quickly adjusts to this new discovery, leaning forward more, measuring his steps more carefully, but with this knowledge comes the awareness that his muscles ache even more than before, and his entire body screams at him to just let go and fall forward onto the soft, inviting ground and just lie down for a bit.

 

And it’s so close. If he let go of Hoseok’s arm and leaned forward, he could probably touch the grass with his hand, and then the rest of him would follow, and Hoseok too, and they would just lie there, next to each other, and wait for the inevitable.

 

No.

 

He has to keep going.

 

_It’ll be alright, Hoseok._

 

One more step.

 

But each step is slower now, because he has to take a moment to motivate himself to see every single movement through, to consider every muscle contraction before finally lifting his foot. They are not making much headway, and even if Kihyun can’t keep track of time or distance in their current state, he knows their progress is pitiful. Pitiful, borderline ridiculous, absurd. Laughable, if their situation wasn’t so fatal.

 

At least they are moving forward, he thinks, at least they are getting somewhere –

 

“ – Kihyun, I beg you, put me down!”

 

\- but everything hurts so much, his head is pounding and his throat constricts with nausea, his legs feel detached until lightning shoots through his muscles and leave a trembling, weak sensation in its wake, and then there is his spine, his ribs, his arms, stiff as they are around Hoseok’s body –

 

“Kihyunnie, please! Please!”

 

Hoseok isn’t a very big man, but he is muscular, a deadweight and Kihyun is much smaller. He does his press-ups and runs his miles, and yet the only thing that drives him now is determination.

 

But determination is the only thing that has driven him for miles, hours, and it can only carry them for so long.

 

Kihyun realizes this when he loses control of his body and his knees collapse under him, making them both tumble to the ground.

 

Hoseok yelps loudly, and rolls off of Kihyun and onto his back in less than a second. His hands immediately go to the bullet wound in his abdomen, and he isn’t surprised to feel warm liquid coating seeping through his shirt.

 

“Fuck!” He groans and clenches his teeth against the new wave of hurt. His ride on Kihyun’s shoulders had left him in a constant state of pain, but at least it was steady, predictable, and he learned to sit through it quietly.

 

Then he saw Kihyun surpassing his limits three times over despite his protests and his heart experienced a different kind of pain.

 

He tries to calm his breathing, wills the throbbing in his side to quiet down before turning his head to look at Kihyun.

 

A few minutes must have passed, Hoseok reckons, but Kihyun is still lying face-down on the ground, arms slack near his head where he had held Hoseok up before. They are only a couple feet away, and despite his own watery vision, Hosoek can see the trembles wrecking Kihyun’s body, and he hears the rattling of his lungs with every laboured intake.

 

It’s heartbreaking, how Kihyun has driven himself so far for Hoseok.

 

And Hoseok knows –

 

“Kihyunnie,” he says, and tries to sit up, but it only sends new pulses of pain from the bullet wound, so he settles for leaning on his elbows instead.

 

Kihyun makes a noise of acknowledgement, but doesn’t move.

 

“Are you alive?” Hoseok asks, and it’s not even a joke anymore. Kihyun makes another noise, somewhere between a moan and a sigh, and Hoseok shifts to one elbow to poke him in the shoulder.

 

“Hey, let me look at your face,” he demands, and his stomach knots uneasily when Kihyun doesn’t immediately react. Then, he slowly lifts his head and turns to face Hoseok, dirty, sweaty and unfocused, but Hoseok can’t help the smile forming on his lips.

 

“There we go,” he says. “Hi, beautiful.”

 

Normally, Kihyun wrinkles his nose and objects to the term ‘beautiful’. He demands ‘handsome’, ‘cool’, or even ‘suave’. He doesn’t do that now. He just smiles weakly at Hoseok, and even though he look far from beautiful in at the moment, it’s all Hoseok wants to see.

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

“Like…” Kihyun struggles with his words for a second before settling. “Like shit.”

 

“Cool,” Hoseok nods slightly and stares at Kihyun’s half-lidded eyes. They’re unfocused, partially looking at Hoseok and partially at the big tree behind him, but at least they’re open. Hoseok knows they can’t ask for much right now.

 

“What about you?” Kihyun returns the question after a while, and Hoseok thinks about this for a second. He is tired, thirsty, in pain and without much hope. He doesn’t know how much blood he has lost so far, but he knows it’s too much. He feels it in the soaked shirt, the light-headedness and the lethargic feeling spreading across his body.

 

There is no point in lying to Kihyun, but he is not going to rub it in either.

 

“Not well.”

 

Kihyun wrinkles his nose again. Hoseok knows he doesn’t do it on purpose. It’s a tic, unconscious habit, one Hoseok has seen many times before in far nicer contexts.  “I’m sorry for dropping you.”

 

“Hey, don’t go there,” Hoseok shakes his head. “You’re not allowed to be sorry for that. You quite literally dragged my ass out of the combat zone, and I don’t even know how. Little Kihyunnie, carrying 113% of his own body weight for hours – “

 

He hisses halfway through the sentence as spasms erupt from his wound and run up his torso.

 

Kihyun seems more alert immediately, opening his eyes fully as he struggles to brace himself against the ground, but Hoseok waves him off with a choked laugh.

 

“It’s alright” he says, even when it’s so terrifyingly clear that nothing is alright. “It’s – there’s nothing to do about that.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Kihyun says again, and Hoseok wishes he could lean over and smack him, but he doesn’t dare moving too far, too quickly.

 

“Shut up,” he says instead and grits his teeth.

 

Kihyun does, and when Hoseok calms himself long enough to glances over, his eyes are closed again. He is still trembling, maybe shivering now, because his drenched jacket doesn’t provide much heat when he isn’t moving around, and the odd sound still echoing from his chest makes Hoseok suspect that the cracked ribs have caused… Complications.

 

He doesn’t want to think about that.

 

He can’t do anything about that. There are others things he can’t do anything about either, like the dehydration, overexertion, - he doesn’t even know what else.

 

Maybe he could do some stitches for the gash Kihyun got on his forearm when a grenade sent splinters flying at them earlier. But then again, it wouldn’t do them much good in this situation. It wouldn’t really make a difference.

 

God, he hates this so much.

 

“Kihyunnie,” he says, trying to distract himself. Kihyun blearily opens his eyes again, and glances in his general direction. The disorientation makes Hoseok question if he could possibly be concussed as well, but he doesn’t remember any occasion that could have caused it. He ignores the notion instead. It’s just another problem he can worry about, but not solve. “You still with me?”

 

Kihyun doesn’t answer immediately, but he keeps looking at Hoseok with the same forlorn, apologetic expression.

 

“I don’t think I can move anymore,” he says eventually, and he sounds so sad about it that Hoseok reaches out and grabs his hand despite the tug from his abdomen. It stings and he has to bite his lip to keep himself from crying out, but it’s worth it for the grateful look melting on Kihyun’s features.

 

“It’s alright,” Hoseok says and he smiles, because his heart swells with such fondness for this boy that is lying here, with him, in the middle of a forest with a battleground behind them and nothing ahead, and maybe it’s the end of it all, but at least there is Kihyun. Kihyun. Kihyun. “You don’t have to walk anymore. You did well.”

 

Kihyun’s eyes are on their intertwined hands, but his gaze moves downward to the wet patch on Hoseok’s shirt with a small frown. “Not well enough.”

 

“Come on,” Hoseok squeezes his hand and forces Kihyun’s attention back to up. “No one could’ve done any better.”

 

“You’re dying,” Kihyun states bluntly, and Hoseok can see the tears welling in his eyes.

 

“We’ll be alright.” It’s an empty assurance, but Hoseok feels like saying it helps a little bit. He turns and glances at the tree behind him. Solid, thick, close.

 

“Come on,” he says and nods towards the tree. “Think you can make it? It’ll be more comfortable.”

 

Kihyun looks past Hoseok and squints a little. It’s really not that far away, a few feet at most, but Hoseok doesn’t point it out. Instead he waits until Kihyun looks back at him and nods slightly.

 

Hoseok goes first, reluctantly letting go of Kihyun’s hand as he slowly scooches his way over to the tree. Every movement pulls uncomfortably at his wound, and his entire abdomen burns now, increasing by the minute as blood sluggishly oozes out. He feels his energy drain as well, and he didn’t think he was this bad off, honestly, but he is. It takes him some minutes to get over there, and when he finally feels his shoulder connect to the trunk, he slumps back against it with a heavy sigh.

 

“Holy fuck,” he mutters and wraps an arm around his stomach as he stretches his legs out. “No. Shit. Okay, fuck. Ow.”

 

“Are you okay?” Kihyun mumbles, and Hoseok can’t quite decide if he thinks Kihyun dozed off again or not during his struggle.

 

“Peachy,” he manages a slight sarcasm, which he is proud of. “Now, come join me.”

 

Kihyun doesn’t move much quicker than Hoseok, and it’s a sad combination of dragging himself across the ground with his arms and weak pushes with his knees that finally send him collapsing over Hoseok’s legs.

 

The forest is almost completely silent now, save for their heavy pants and dry swallows. The echoes of the battlefield is muted by the treetops and the approaching night, but they wouldn’t hear it anyway.

 

“Is this the end?” Kihyun asks eventually, and Hoseok looks down. He takes in Kihyun’s flushed skin, ruffled brown hair and the little cut above his left eyebrow. The small eyes, small nose, small mouth, sharp jaw and soft cheeks. The spirit hidden behind a gentle appearance, sly humour and fierce loyalty. Hoseok knows it all, loves it all, and it hurts so badly that Kihyun should be reduced to this. One of his hands is resting on his chest, curled up in a lose fist over the standard issue military jacket, and he has never once stopped trembling.

 

He is broken.

 

Hoseok knows he is broken too.

 

He wishes they were somewhere else. He wishes they were home, safe, or not even home, just somewhere far away from this war and far away from any threats or dangers. He wishes they could have had a chance.

 

They didn’t. They have been waiting for this for months.

 

“Yeah,” he says finally. “This is the end.”

 

Kihyun nods, once. He doesn’t look surprised or sad at the admission. He just acknowledges it.

 

He probably knew, Hoseok thinks. There is no way he couldn’t – he refused to admit it for the longest time, it was what kept him going when Hoseok was bleeding out on his shoulders and his body screamed at him to stop walking, but there is no way he can ignore it any longer.

 

The world is unfair.

 

They shouldn’t be here.

 

The only silver lining is that they are together.

 

“Hey,” Hoseok nudges Kihyun slightly. “I’m sorry, but could you sit up for a second, please? I know it’ll be hard, but I just… I can’t bend down right now, I’m sorry.”

 

Kihyun smiles at him then, and it’s not a bright smile, but it shines like a proverbial sun in the middle of their despair.

 

He struggles upright, aided by Hoseok’s arms on his shoulders, and sits back on his heels with one hand at the tree trunk to steady himself, the other cradling his torso. Trying in vain to secure loose ribs.

 

Hoseok doesn’t waste any time, and the moment Kihyun’s position is stable, he leans forward to grab Kihyun’s face between his hands.

 

“I love you,” he says quietly, and brings their foreheads together. “So, so much, and I hope you know it. I love you, and you are the best, bravest, strongest man I know.”

 

“You only say this because you don’t know yourself,” Kihyun smiles and lifts his hand from his ribs, wincing a little, to cup Hoseok’s fingers over his cheeks. “Shin Hoseok is the best man in the world. I’m so lucky to have him, and I hope he knows that I love him with all my heart, too.”

 

Hoseok can’t help his little chuckle. “When did we become so cheesy?”

 

“We’ve always been cheesy,” Kihyun almost shrugs, but has not energy to do anything besides remaining upright. “But I guess inevitable doom brings out the worst in people.”

 

Hoseok shakes his head fondly, once, twice, before leaning forward and capturing Kihyun’s lips in a needy, desperate kiss. Both their lips are chapped, dry, and they haven’t brushed their teeth in two days, but it doesn’t matter. Hoseok marvels at the feel of Kihyun’s lips under his own, wounded, scarred, not like they used to be, but it’s still _Kihyun,_ it’s still right, and Hoseok wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world. Kihyun breathes into his mouth, softly touching his bottom lip with his tongue and Hoseok accepts the invitation readily. It’s slow, but passionate, as if they want to preserve every second for an eternity.

 

They do.

 

They both know this is their last.

 

Hoseok forces himself to pull away when he feels Kihyun’s trembles increase and the smaller body sways a little beneath his touch. He reluctantly leans back, just a little, enough to still see warm, familiar brown just before his eyes.

 

Kihyun is sweating again, but he stares at Hoseok with such fierce adoration and love, and Hoseok thinks about how blessed he has been to experience Yoo Kihyun in his life.

 

“I love you,” Kihyun says again, a thin whisper now, but Hoseok hears it clearly nonetheless.

 

“I love you too, Kihyunnie” he smiles and dries a wayward tear rolling down Kihyun’s cheek.

 

“Lie down again,” he suggests, but tugs Kihyun closer for one final peck on his forehead. “You’ll be more comfortable.”

 

Kihyun does, slowly, trying not to aggravate any of his or Hoseok’s wounds more than necessary, but he can’t quite avoid crumbling down with a groan as his arm gives under him. Hoseok’s hands hover, but Kihyun shakes his head and manoeuvres himself to lie with his head on Hoseok’s thighs.

 

“Alright?”

 

“As good as it’ll get.”

 

Darkness is falling now, and in an hour or so, it will be completely black. It doesn’t matter much to the two of them, but the atmosphere drops to a quiet serenity as the noises from the battlefield fade out completely and all that is left is Kihyun’s harsh breaths and the distant whistles of forest birds.

 

“You’re pale,” Kihyun whispers with a frown.

 

“I know,” Hoseok agrees, even though he doesn’t really, he just expects it. He feels the blood drain by the second.

 

“And you’re clammy,” Kihyun continues, encompassing one of Hoseok’s hands in both of his own.

 

“I know,” Hoseok repeats and runs his free hand through Kihyun’s matted hair. “And you’re not breathing right.”

 

Kihyun smiles. “I know.”

 

He closes his eyes and sighs a little as Hoseok keeps carding through his hair. It’s greasy and tangled, but Hoseok doesn’t care, and Kihyun just thinks it feels so good. Almost all right.

 

“It’s okay, go to sleep,” Hoseok says, his voice more tender than Kihyun has ever heard it before. “I’ll look after you.”

 

“Will you wake me… Before you go?” Kihyun opens his eyes to look at Hoseok’s face as he asks.

 

Hoseok brushes his hand over Kihyun’s eyes and closes them gently. “Yeah, I will.”

 

He doesn’t.

 

But it doesn’t matter, because Kihyun never woke up to realize that Hoseok’s last words to him were a merciful lie.

 

Jooheon from their squad finds them the day after, and Jooheon has a soft soul, so he cries when he takes in the scene.

 

Kihyun’s head pillowed on Hoseok’s legs, still cradling Hoseok’s left hand on top of his chest. And Hoseok, leaning back against the tree trunk, pale as a sheet and head hanging limply to the side. His right hand still rests on Kihyun’s cheek.

 

It’s not a peaceful sight, it’s coloured by military greens, caked rusty red and scattered weapons, dirty, famished faces and countless scars.

 

There is only comfort in the fact that they took the final step away together.


End file.
